Robert Sheckley - A Thief in Time
Eldridge looked up and found that a bespectacled girl of nine or so was standing at the end of his row of books, staring at him. She ducked back out of sight. He read on.
The next chapter was entitled "Unparadox of Time." Eldridge skimmed it rapidly. The author began with the classic paradox of Achilles and the tortoise, and demolished it with integral calculus. Using this as a logical foundation, he went on to the so-called time paradoxes—killing one's great-great grandfather, meeting oneself, and the like. These held up no better than Zeno's ancient paradox. Alfredex went on to explain that all temporal paradoxes were the inventions of authors with a gift for confusion.
Eldridge didn't understand the intricate symbolic logic in this part, which was embarrassing, since he was cited as the leading authority.
The next chapter was called "Fall of the Mighty." It told how Eldridge had met Viglin, the owner of a large sporting-goods store in Sector One. They became fast friends. The businessman took the shy young genius under his wing. He arranged lecture tours for him. Then—
"I beg your pardon, sir," someone said. Eldridge looked up. The gray-faced librarian was standing in front of him. Beside her was the bespectacled little girl with a smug grin on her face.
"Yes?" Eldridge asked.
"Time Travelers are not allowed in the Readery," the librarian said sternly.
That was understandable, Eldridge thought. Travelers could grab an armload of valuable books and disappear. They probably weren't allowed in banks, either.
The trouble was, he didn't dare surrender this book.
Eldridge smiled, tapped his ear, and hastily went on reading.
It seemed that the brilliant young Eldridge had allowed Viglin to arrange all his contracts and papers. One day he found, to his surprise, that he had signed over all rights in {he Time Traveler to Viglin, for a small monetary consideration. Eldridge brought the case to court. The court found against him. The case was appealed. Penniless and embittered, Eld-ridge embarked on his career of crime, stealing from Viglin—
"Sir!" the librarian said. "Deaf or not, you must leave at once. Otherwise I will call a guard."
Eldridge put down the book, muttered, "Tattle-tale," to the little girl, and hurried out of the Readery.
Now he knew why Viglin was so eager to arrest him. With the case still pending, Eldridge would be in a very poor position behind bars.
But why had he stolen?
The theft of his invention was an understandable motive, but Eldridge felt certain it was not the right one. Stealing from Viglin would not make him feel any better nor would it right the wrong. His reaction would be either to fight or to withdraw, to retire from the whole mess. Anything except stealing.
Well, he would find out. He would hide in Sector Two, perhaps find work. Bit by bit, he would—
Two men seized his arms from either side. A third took the Traveler away from him. It was done so smoothly that Eldridge was still gasping when one of the men showed a badge.
"Police," the man said. "You'll have to come with us, Mr. Eldridge."
"What for?" Eldridge asked.
"Robbery in Sectors One and Two."
So he had stolen here, too.
He was taken to the police station and into the small, cluttered office of the captain of police. The captain was a slim, balding, cheerful-faced man. He waved his subordinates out of the room, motioned Eldridge to a chair and gave him a cigarette.
"So you're Eldridge," he said.
Eldridge nodded morosely.
"Been reading about you ever since I was a little boy," the captain said nostalgically. "You were one of my heroes."
Eldridge guessed the captain to be a good fifteen years his senior, but he didn't ask about it. After all, he was supposed to be the expert on time paradoxes.
"Always thought you got a rotten deal," the captain said, toying with a large bronze paperweight. "Still, I couldn't understand a man like you stealing. For a while, we thought it might have been temporary insanity."
"Was it?" Eldridge asked hopefully.
"Not a chance. Checked your records. You just haven't got the potentiality. And that makes it rather difficult for me. For example, why did you steal those particular items?"
"What items?"
"Don't you remember?"
"I—I've blanked out," Eldridge said. 'Temporary amnesia."
"Very understandable," the captain said sympathetically. He handed Eldridge a paper. "Here's the list."
ITEMS STOLEN BY THOMAS MONROE ELDRIDGE Taken from Viglin's Sporting Goods Store, Sector One:
Credits
4 Megacharge Hand Pistols....................10,000
3 Lifebelts, Inflatable......................... 100
5 Cans, Ollen's Shark Repellant................. 400
Taken from Alfghan's Specialty Shop,
Sector One:
2 Microflex Sets, World Literature............... 1,000
5 Teeny-Tom Symphonic Tape Runs............. 2,650
Taken from Loorie's Produce
Store, Sector Two:
4 Dozen Potatoes, White Turtle Brand............ 5
9 Packages, Carrot Seeds (Fancy)............... 6
Taken from Manori's Notions Store, Sector Two:
5 Dozen Mirrors, Silver-backed (hand size)....... 95
Total Value............................14,256
"What does it mean?" the captain asked. "Stealing a million credits outright, I could understand, but why all that junk?"
Eldridge shook his head. He could find nothing meaningful in the list. The megacharge hand pistols sounded useful. But why the mirrors, lifebelts, potatoes and the rest of the things that the captain had properly called junk?
It just didn't sound like himself. Eldridge began to think of himself as two people. Eldridge I had invented time travel, been victimized, stolen some incomprehensible articles, and vanished. Eldridge II was himself, the person Viglin had found. He had no memory of the first Eldridge. But he had to discover Eldridge I's motives and/or suffer for his crimes.
"What happened after I stole these things?" Eldridge asked.
"That's what we'd like to know," the captain said. "All we know is, you fled into Sector Three with your loot."
"And then?"
The captain shrugged. "When we applied for extradition, the authorities told us you weren't there. Not that they'd have given you up. They're a proud, independent sort, you know. Anyhow, you'd vanished."
"Vanished? To where?"
"I don't know. You might have gone into the Uncivilized Sectors that lie beyond Sector Three."
"What are the Uncivilized Sectors?" Eldridge asked.
"We were hoping you would tell us," the captain said. "You're the only man who's explored beyond Sector Three."
Damn it, Eldridge thought, he was supposed to be the authority on everything he wanted to know!
"This puts me in a pretty fix," the captain remarked squinting at his paperweight.
"Why?"
"Well, you're a thief. The law says I must arrest you. However, I am also aware that you got a very shoddy deal. And I happen to know that you stole only from Viglin and his affiliates in both Sectors. There's a certain justice to it— unfortunately unrecognized by law."
Eldridge nodded unhappily.
"It's my clear duty to arrest you," the captain said with a deep sigh. "There's nothing I can do about it, even if I wanted to. You'll have to stand trial and probably serve a sentence of twenty years or so."
"What? For stealing rubbish like shark repellant and carrot seed? For stealing junk?"
"We're pretty rough on time theftt" said the captain. "Temporal offense."
"I see," Eldridge said, slumping in his chair.
"Of course," said the captain thoughtfully, "if you should suddenly turn vicious, knock me over the head with this heavy paperweight, grab my personal Time Traveler—which I keep in the second shelf of that cabinet—and return to your friends in Sector Three, there would really be nothing I could do about it."
"Huh?"
The captain turned toward the window, leaving his paperweight within Eldridge's easy reach.
"It's really terrible," he commented, "the things one will consider doing for a boyhood hero. But, of course, you're a law-abiding man. You would never do such a thing and I have psychological reports to prove it."
"Thanks," Eldridge said. He lifted the paperweight and tapped the captain lightly over the head. Smiling, the captain slumped behind his desk. Eldridge found the Traveler in the cabinet, and set it for Sector Three. He sighed deeply and pushed the button.
Again he was overcome by darkness.
When he opened his eyes, he was standing on a plain of parched yellow ground. Around him stretched a treeless waste, and a dusty wind blew in his face. Ahead, he could see several brick buildings and a row of tents, built along the side of a dried-out gully. He walked toward them.
This future, he decided, must have seen another climatic shift. The fierce sun had baked the land, drying up the streams and rivers. If the trend continued, he could understand why the next future was Uncivilized. It was probably Unpopulated.
He was very tired. He had not eaten all day—or for several thousand years, depending on how you count. But that, he realized, was a false paradox, one that Alfredex would certainly demolish with symbolic logic.
To hell with logic. To hell with science, paradox, everything. He would run no further. There had to be room for him in this dusty land. The people here—a proud, independent sort —would not give him up. They believed in justice, not the law.
Here he would stay, work, grow old, and forget Eldridge I and his crazy schemes.
When he reached the village, he saw that the people were already assembled to greet him. They were dressed in long, flowing robes, like Arabian burnooses, the only logical attire for the climate.
A bearded patriarch stepped forward and nodded gravely at Eldridge. "The ancient sayings are true. For every beginning there is an ending."
Eldridge agreed politely. "Anyone got a drink of water?" "It is truly written," the patriarch continued, "that the thief, given a universe to wander, will ultimately return to the scene of his crime."
"Crime?" Eldridge asked, feeling an uneasy tingle in his stomach.
"Crime," the patriarch repeated.
A man in the crowd shouted, "It's a stupid bird that fouls its own nest!" The people roared with laughter, but Eldridge didn't like the sound. It was cruel laughter.
"Ingratitude breeds betrayal," the patriarch said. "Evil is omnipresent. We liked you, Thomas Eldridge. You came to us with your strange machine, bearing booty, and we recognized your proud spirit. It made you one of us. We protected you from your enemies in the Wet Worlds. What did it matter to .us if you had wronged them? Had they not wronged you? An eye for an eye!"
The crowd growled approvingly. "But what did I do?" Eldridge wanted to know. The crowd converged on him, waving clubs and knives. A row of men in dark blue cloaks held them off, and Eldridge realized that there were policemen even here.
"Tell me what I did," he persisted as the policemen took the Traveler from him.
"You axe guilty of sabotage and murder," the patriarch told him.
Eldridge stared around wildly. He had fled a petty larceny charge in Sector One, only to find himself accused of it in Sector Two. He had retreated to Sector Three, where he was wanted for murder and sabotage.
He smiled amiably. "You know, all I ever really wanted was a warm drowsy country, books, congenial neighbors, and the love of a good—"
When he recovered, he found himself lying on packed earth in a small brick jail. Through a slitted window, he could see an insignificant strip of sunset. Outside the wooden door, someone was wailing a song.
